


Don't Let the Wurblings Get You Down

by tryslora



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Almost Breaking the New Year, Kiss at Midnight, M/M, New Year's Eve, lover's spat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 06:02:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/618886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is New Year's Eve. Can Draco and Harry's fledgling relationship survive a party including both of their sets of friends?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Let the Wurblings Get You Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [phoenixphire09](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixphire09/gifts).



> This was written as a holiday gift ficlet for phoenixphire09 on Livejournal in response to a prompt for something going wrong at a New Year's Eve party. Phoenixphire09, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> As always, the world and characters of Harry Potter are owned by JK Rowling; I just like to write here.

If it weren’t so painful, it would be funny.

When Harry brings in the first tray of appetizers, fresh from the oven, their friends are carefully split into two groups. On one side of the flat, clustered around the bar, are Draco’s friends. Pansy leans on Blaise’s arm as she sips white wine. Theo is deep in conversation with Daphne and Tracey. Greg looks out of place, awkwardly balanced on a too-short stool, twisting back and forth as he tries to look like he’s having a good time.

Ron sprawls on the sofa on the other side of the room, and Luna perches on the back of it, her bare toes resting against Ron’s hip. Hermione sits primly in the chair, a glass of wine that matches Pansy twisting in her fingertips. Seamus and Dean sit on the floor, Seamus’s head tilted against Dean’s shoulder as he talks loudly. Neville is the quiet one, standing awkwardly with a glass of firewhiskey in one hand, his other shoved deep into his pocket.

“This is going well, I see.” Draco’s voice is a murmur in Harry’s ear, a soft wash of warm breath over his skin as he comes up behind Harry. “Perhaps some of your little weenies wrapped in bread will soften their moods and break the ice.”

“There is nothing wrong with pigs in blankets.” Harry smiles and tries to keep his sharp words quiet and for his boyfriend’s ears alone.

“They are dreadfully pedestrian and _American_ ,” Draco sneers. “It’s a good thing I remembered to pick up the paté.”

Harry wrinkles his nose. “I don’t like liver paste.”

“Pedestrian.”

They paste on matching thin smiles and walk out together, placing their trays on a table set at the center of the small flat, equidistant from both the couch and the bar. Harry picks up one of his appetizers—he has a selection of various sorts of meats and cheese wrapped in bread, then baked—and pops it in his mouth.

That’s all that’s needed for Ron to move, joining Harry at the table. At least Ron’s appetite is something Harry can always count on. After a bit, Neville joins them, and Pansy moves to the other side of the table to delicately smear brown paste on a cracker.

It doesn’t really change anything, Harry realizes.

Now they are just standing on opposite sides of the same table, Draco’s friends nibbling carefully on expensive tidbits, while Harry’s friends snack on comfort food and talk among themselves.

Draco stands with his friends, listening intently to some story Blaise tells, one eyebrow arching in amusement at the tale.

Something twists in Harry’s gut, painful and wrong. “This isn’t how I want to start the new year,” he mutters, setting down the small plate he holds. The little quiches, spanakopita… none of it appeals anymore. None of _this_ appeals, either.

“Harry.” Draco’s voice is sharp when Harry walks away, but Harry just throws one hand in the air, warding off the inquiry.

When Harry closes the door to their bedroom, he locks it tight behind him, layering three different locking spells on top of each other. He doesn’t want to be disturbed.

If this party is going to be just another rehash of what life was like back in Hogwarts, a decade ago, then he’d rather ring in the new year alone.

#

“Your Wurblings are showing.”

The voice at Draco’s elbow is soft, but somehow pierces through the words that rumble from Blaise’s lips. That doesn’t mean it makes sense. “I’m sorry?” He turns to see Luna standing there, her hands lightly clasped in front of her and her gaze locked upon something just past his ear. A glance shows him nothing.

“Wurblings,” she says. “They appear in times of great stress and change.”

“There is no such thing as Wurblings, Lovegood,” Pansy says with a too-sweet smile. “I’m quite sure you’re aware of this, but I do understand that your mind has never been good at staying rooted in the real world.”

“Pans,” Draco chides.

“No, it’s all right,” Luna says. “I understand that not everyone can see the whole world, and that’s sad. Someday you’ll see the Gibbletrams and your eyes will be opened to everything amazing that is out there. But Pansy, you really oughtn’t try to dissuade him. Wurblings are important. If Draco’s are showing…”

“What?” Draco snaps, irritable. Harry has yet to return from his sulk, leaving Draco alone with this ridiculous farce of a celebration for more than an hour already. “Tell me, Lovegood, _what_ does it mean?”

“It means tonight something so big is going to happen that it affects us all.” She smiles gently then, leaning in to kiss him quickly on the cheek. “For the better, I think. I hope. Because if it’s this big, and it’s awful, none of us might ever recover. Blaise, do you think you might pour me a glass of wine?”

Draco watches as Luna manages to detach Blaise from the group of Slytherins and tug him with her back to the bar. They stand there, quiet Eagle and chatting Snake, bridging the distance between two groups.

Pansy purses her lips. “You aren’t actually listening to her, are you?”

Draco’s gaze drifts to the hallway and the closed door where Harry disappeared. Then he looks at the Lions gathered on one side of the table, and the Snakes gathered with him. “I do believe I have to, my dear,” he murmurs. 

With a wave of his wand, the table is moved to one side, Weasley following close behind, reaching for another snack. Another swish and music rises, just fast enough for dancing but slow enough that they can interact. “Dance,” he says. “And not with another member of your house. Ask someone—anyone—that you do not know well to dance.”

Luna and Blaise are the first into the space, a bright study in contrast, like the full moon against the midnight sky. She tilts her head back, smiling as he speaks, and they sway together.

Granger marches over to take Theodore by the hand, dragging him out despite protests. They dance stiffly until Granger stubbornly places her hands on Theo’s shoulders, waiting for his hands to touch her hips. Draco can see Granger’s lips move as she counts out the steps, the waltz speeding up as they find rhythm together.

He glances at Pansy, and she sighs. “Very well, darling.” She vanishes her glass then moves to take Weasley by the hand. “Oh _do_ stop eating, for just one moment,” Pansy chides. “If we are to dance, the only thing you should pay attention to is me.”

Daphne and Tracey manage to somehow pair with Finnigan and Thomas, which leaves only Greg and Longbottom standing alone.

Longbottom flushes. “Er. No thank you. I’m all left feet anyroad, so it’s likely best this way.”

“I am too,” Greg admits, and together they take up space on the sofa, out of the way. After a time, Draco hears conversation about herbology and both Greg and Longbottom seem intent on their discussion.

That leaves Draco alone. He glances at the door again, willing Harry to reappear and see what he has done.

After several songs, Draco finds himself with Pansy at one elbow and Hermione at the other.

“Darling, you need to do something,” Pansy tells him. 

“You can’t just let him sulk all night,” Granger adds. “If you don’t go in there, he’ll just stay there until you do.”

“Is that the way of the lion?” Draco lifts a flute to his lips, tasting champagne. It is his first sip of the night as midnight draws close, but far from his first alcohol. He can feel it warming his bones, making them liquid while his mind stews over tiny insults and frustrations.

“Don’t forget the Wurblings,” Luna’s lilting voice adds. Draco doesn’t know what to think when both Pansy and Granger agree, toasting each other before sipping their matched glasses of wine.

“The Wurblings.” Draco rolls his eyes. “Fine. Since all of you know best about my love life, I shall go see if I can coax The Boy Who Sulks from our room.” He raises his glass then gulps the champagne down, leaving the empty glass behind, lonely on the table.

#

“Open up, Potter.” Someone pounds on the door and Harry glares at it.

“No.” His head aches in time with the pounding, and he has no desire to see them. Any of them, including his all-too-new boyfriend Draco Malfoy. Six months together, three months sharing a flat. It is all too soon, Harry thinks. It all happened so fast and what do they really know about each other? Obviously nothing if their friends can’t be arsed to get along for _one night_ to ring in the new year on a positive note.

“Potter.”

Harry ignores the voice.

“Harry.”

Lower this time, coaxing and curling in Harry’s gut with the warmth and familiarity of remembering this is the man he loves. With a sigh, he waves the wand thrice to unlock the door. “Have they all left?” he asks when the door opens.

“Hardly.” Draco leans in the doorway, his pale features silhouetted by the light from the room beyond. “I do believe Weasley and Granger have been flirting through dancing with every possible other partner than each other. If they don’t have a brilliant shag when they get home, then it all will have been for naught. I’m quite certain Thomas and Finnigan have somehow coerced Daphne and Tracey into a foursome which they seem determined to start on our balcony, and Pansy has confessed that she actually finds Longbottom attractive.” Draco raises one shoulder and lets it fall in a lazy shrug. “It seems all they really needed was some encouragement.”

Harry walks slowly to the doorway, slipping into Draco’s embrace as they look together at those who are gathered in their living room. No longer a detente, it is now a proper celebration, both sets of friends mixing, loud with alcohol and good cheer.

“Harry! Mate! It’s just about midnight!” Ron calls. “Get your arse out here to ring in the new year!”

“I’m sorry I acted like a git,” Harry murmurs. “Forgive me?”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you did so with an ulterior motive, which I find incredibly attractive in a man,” Draco murmurs in return. “So yes, forgiven. Now, shall we ring in the new year properly?”

There’s the sound of a bell and a cheer goes up. Harry and Draco hurry to join the others in the living room, taking glasses of champagne that are pressed into their hands.

Together they count down the last seconds until the final chime, then Harry is wrapped in Draco’s arms. The kiss is slow and soft, sweet and loving.

When it breaks, Harry is aware that they are surrounded by friends who are all talking and cheering, toasting the new year, but he only has eyes for his lover. “Happy New Year,” Harry says softly.

Draco frames his face in his hands, leaning in for another kiss. “The happiest,” he says. “And this is the perfect beginning for many, many more.”

They stand and sway to the softly playing music. When Draco finally pulls back, excusing himself to go speak with Ron and Hermione, Harry has to smile to watch them.

“Please do tell Draco that the Wurblings are gone now.” Luna sips her champagne, her radish earrings swaying when she nods. “He’ll sleep easier, I think, and so will you.”

“Wurblings?” Harry has to ask. He almost laughs, but ever since the Thestrals he knows better than to doubt what Luna says.

“Don’t worry, he’ll understand.” Luna sets her hand on Harry’s arm, then pulls him closer for a hug and a kiss. “Perhaps we ought to start convincing people to leave. I’m quite certain you’d like to shag for the new year.”

Harry has to laugh, even knowing that his cheeks have gone red from her frank comment. “I most definitely would,” he agrees.

It may not have started off well, but this has definitely turned into the best welcome to a year that he can remember. He smiles at Draco across the room, wiggling his eyebrows and glancing at their room. As Draco herds Ron and Hermione towards the Floo, Harry knows he has understood.

Definitely the best way to welcome the new year.


End file.
